The Guy from the Book
by A Curious Bee
Summary: A sixteen year old shouldn't try to make a Horcrux. No matter how "brilliant" or how much of a "prodigy" that kid is– a sixteen year old really shouldn't try to make a Horcrux. Tom Riddle messes up and sucks his whole soul into his diary, which is found 50 years later by the young Lily Potter in a world with no Voldemort. femHarry AU
1. Chapter 1

**AN: a story I couldn't get out of my head.**

 _Summary: Tom Riddle's whole soul gets sucked into the diary and is found by the daughter of Lily and James Potter._

 _Daily Prophet April 18, 1943_

 _SIXTH-YEAR SLYTHERIN AND FOURTH-YEAR RAVENCLAW FOUND DEAD AT HOGWARTS_

 _Two days ago, on April 16, 1943, two students of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry went missing. They were discovered the next day by one Olive Hornby, 4th year bully of the unbearably irritating Myrtle Warren._

 _As the ghost of one of those students reports, Olive Hornby walked into the bathroom taunting,"Are you here again, sulking Myrtle?" However, Olive Hornby was faced by the very dead bodies of two students and the haunting face of Myrtle. The taunt was soon met with a blood-curdling scream and a thump as Olive Hornby's unconscious body fell to the ground. Thus, three students of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry were missing on April 17, 1943._

 _They were all found later that day by Head Girl Minerva McGonagall, who encountered the following scene: two dead bodies, the crying ghost of one of the bodies, and the unconscious body of Olive Hornby._

 _The two dead students were sixth-year Slytherin Tom Riddle and fourth year Ravenclaw Myrtle Warren. As this horrendous event follows multiple petrifications throughout the school year, the competence of Headmaster Dippet and the continuation of the school is severely questioned. Turn to page six (6) for an interview with the ghost of Myrtle Warren._

* * *

A sixteen year old really shouldn't try to make a Horcrux. No matter how "brilliant" or how much of a "prodigy" that kid is– a sixteen year old _really_ shouldn't try to make a Horcrux.

Horcruxes are advanced pieces of magic, only embarked on by those who've spent decades immersed in the Dark Arts. While the process isn't terribly complicated, it requires a great deal of concentration and intent to a remove a piece of one's soul, not to mention the certainty of splitting your soul. Tom Riddle had power and intent, but when he found himself in the first-floor girls lavatory after his first "murder," he couldn't exactly think about the consequences of his actions. His focus was on the bombings going on in London and the guarantee of immortality. He wasn't expecting his first murder to happen so quickly, but, like a Slytherin, he seized the opportunity to grant his immortality.

Unfortunately for him, he hadn't murdered anyone.

You would think that commanding a giant snake to kill someone would count as a murder, but technically it was the basilisk who murdered Myrtle Warren. Maybe if Tom Riddle Imperio'd the snake it would count as a murder. Or maybe if he... actually killed Myrtle Warren? If anything, Salazar Slytherin murdered Myrtle, as he was the one who commanded the Basilisk to follow the orders of the heirs of Slytherin.

Nevertheless, as Tom Riddle, prodigy-boy-who-succeeded-at-every-spell-on-the-first-try, summoned up his magic and pointed his wand at the diary lying on the floor and spoke the words ' _Anima Sectra,_ ' the Horcrux spell worked. The dark magic spread throughout his body, finding his soul and searching for a fracture. But it found none. And so, the diary, which had turned into a sort of vacuum for souls, simply sucked up all of Tom Riddle's soul, leaving only a husk behind. So when Minerva McGonagall walked in a day later, she found the soulless shell of Tom Riddle, the unconscious body of Olive Hornby, the ghost and dead body of Myrtle Warren, and a diary.

As any controversial event in wizarding Britain, it was miraculously swept under the rug. Since Myrtle only became a ghost for Olive Hornby, she had not become a ghost during death of Tom Riddle and could provide no answers. The blame was, in fact, placed upon Headmaster Dippet, who had "allowed these events to happen." Dippet was thrown out and replaced by Deputy Headmaster Dumbledore, who took Head Girl McGonagall under his wing. The matter was not further investigated and the basilisk returned to the chamber with no heir. Myrtle's belongings were returned to her family, but Hogwarts seemed to know that Riddle's belongings had no owner, and were absorbed into the school itself, finding their home in the Room of Hidden Things. No one suspected that the missing diary of Tom Riddle had any importance at all.

* * *

Tom Riddle didn't know what to expect once he made his first Horcrux. If he had any inkling of what being a bodiless splinter of a soul was supposed to feel like, the truth was nothing like it. He definitely felt... whole. However, that probably didn't mean anything. And wasn't he planning on writing in the diary once he got back to his room? He definitely didn't feel anyone writing on him. In fact, was he supposed to feel at all? Is this all there was? Tom Riddle tried to look around. He then realized that there was no neck to look around with, and no eyes to see. As soon as he imagined them, they were there. A neck and two eyes. However he could 'see' nothing but a vast blank space. It wasn't even a white space. Or a black space. It had no color, no shade, no light, no darkness. It was There. It's presence was beyond comprehension, and as Tom Riddle tried to define it, tried to understand it, tried to control it— he hit upon a wall. The presence consumed him, and Tom Riddle, the master of control, bearer of power, heir of Slytherin, screamed. And the scream went on for eternity.

When Tom Riddle stopped screaming (it could have been a second or a year), he decided to make the best out of a bad situation. He thought up a body, and some clothes, and a room, and some furniture, and then as soon as he turned away from them all, they were gone. He looked down at his body, and brought up a hand to his face. It was but a blur. As he concentrated on making his hand appear the same as it had before: imitating every wrinkle or fold, every curve of the finger; his legs disappeared. Distracted, he found himself concentrating on his legs, until with dismay he realized that his hand had returned to its disfigured state. Tom Riddle burned with frustration.

Nothing was real. Time hadn't stopped, but it had ceased to exist. No one was there to manipulate, to be a point of reference. Nothing stayed. As soon as he imagined an object, it would disappear. With everything in flux, including himself, Tom's only desire was to find something that stayed. A constant. Something real.

And so, as anyone who prided himself on his power would do, he decided to create this point of constancy himself. His first creation was a box. A completely ordinary, colorless cube. He took care in forming the points of the cube and exacting the perfect square surfaces. Once he was sure the cube was finished, he moved its existence to a different side of his mind (did he still have a "mind"?) and moved away from it. He looked back at the cube and found that it was still there, without any disturbances. It worked!

He later worked on producing different forms, cataloguing them in different spaces in his mind until he had 5 shapes that he could put power into without consciously thinking of them. He knew that if he was stuck in this Horcrux forever, he had to work.

* * *

The new headmaster Albus Dumbledore simply couldn't be expected to accomplish all his tasks while also having the responsibility for the whole school. He had to placate the masses, console Myrtle's parents, "explain" to the muggle orphanage the disappearance of Tom, teach Transfiguration while Mcgonagall earned her mastery... All while heading the school. And his previous acquaintance, Grindelwald, was making an appearance as well!

Albus shook his head. He had been planning on stopping his friend once he had acquired certain resources... but now he just didn't have the time. It would all settle down soon enough, wouldn't it?

Dumbledore ignored the feeling at the back of his mind as he sat at the Faculty Table in the Grand Hall. He had enough things to do, and he didn't want to take responsibility for one more.

* * *

Slytherins were whispering about the new Dark Lord, and many had plans to join him for the following years. A hater of muggles, Grindelwald had just the ideology that could fill up the vacuum Tom Riddle created. Tom had had his circle of followers by his sixth year, but now that he was gone, the power vacuum only caused the Slytherins to lean to someone else.

As far as wizarding Britain was concerned, the War was a muggle war. Though rumors whispered about it being led by the new Dark Lord, he had not attacked Britain and so he was not in the minds of the people. Unless they wanted to join him, of course.

Grindelwald waited before attacking Britain, but when the war struck, it struck hard. Dumbledore called an Order to fight against the new threat. Grindelwald was less about guerrilla warfare and more about total destruction, as overpowered bombarda-like spells desolated whole crowds of wizards at once. It wasn't until 1956 that Dumbledore had his famous duel with Grindelwald, ending the World War. However, it had gone on long enough and the wizarding world had suffered and thousands had died.

Seeing the destruction caused, many Dark wizards denounced their muggle hating ways, while Dumbledore's influence in the Wizengamot swayed political favor in the Light direction. The Dark wizards had had the long-overdue war, and they had lost. While many still studied the Dark Arts, a leader had yet to appear as their was no cause to be passionate about.

Muggleborn hatred became an archaic way of thought, though purebloods usually had the upper hand due to their vast fortunes. By the late 1960's superiority among wizards was based on the size of bank accounts rather than blood as the wage gap widened. Slytherins were not hated, but earned the title of being "ambitious," as members of that house typically found themselves in Ministry positions.

When young Eleanor Prince ran away with a certain Tobias Snape, she was not disowned, just simply disapproved of. The first time Tobias Snape raised a hand to her face she ran off with her son, finding a rich muggle who was fascinated by her and purchasing one of the most expensive houses in Cokeworth. Her family greatly approved of her new choice of husband and found it in them to be a part of her life.

When Severus Simmons found himself at the park, watching muggleborn Lily Evans, he was excited to make a new witch friend. He found himself in the Ravenclaw house when he entered Hogwarts. His interest in the Dark Arts persisted, but his skill in Potions outweighed it as he earned his mastery and became a Hogwarts professor after Slughorn retired. His friendship with Lily Evans stayed a friendship and he desired nothing more.

Lily Evans married James Potter and had one child. She had black hair and her mother's eyes and was named Poppy Lillian Potter. Mostly because the name Poppy Potter sounded ridiculous and was insisted on by Sirius Black. Once Poppy was old enough to comprehend her name, she insisted on being called Lily Potter.

Lily Potter had dreams of green light and lightning scars and of having some importance on the world. Her greatest desire was to become someone meaningful. As a young girl she played in the Potter's gardens and explored, imagining great scenarios where she would find treasure or a lost artifact or a hidden creature. This nature continued and at the age of six while visiting her 'Uncle Sev' at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, she ran off to find a 'secret of the school.' Delighted at the moving stairs, she ran off from her mother, who was having a 'boring talk' with her uncle. Lily decided to see how far she could go in the castle, and something led her all the way to the seventh floor.

 _I want to be great. I want to find something. I want to explore._ Lily's thoughts were centered on finding the treasure she dreamed about all the time at her home. A few times she was distracted by some funny looking paintings, like a particular tapestry of a wizard trying to teach trolls to dance. After walking past that tapestry a few times, a door appeared, and Lily smiled. She had found it.

The room was full of junk. Lily shrieked with joy that she had discovered something all by herself. As she walked further into the Room of Hidden Things she saw a trunk with some things on top of it. Looking closer, she noticed that it was a white wand and a book.

Lily's eyes widened as she looked at the wand. She wasn't allowed to touch her parents wands, and she knew she couldn't get one until she was eleven. But just holding one couldn't hurt, right?

As Lily grabbed the wand, she felt a wave of power surge through her. Green sparks flew out of the wand and she laughed. She carefully set the wand down on the trunk and grabbed the book.

It was a journal with the name 'Tom Riddle' on it. It was empty.

 **AN: And so it begins! World War II lasted for ten more years than it was supposed to, which should make up for a lot of the wizard deaths Riddle caused. I'm not a fan of OCs, so while everything should be completely different, a lot of the characters will stay the same. This is my first fanfic, so review with any suggestions! Should I have Hermione, or did her parents/grandparents die in the War? Should Lily Potter know parseltongue? Should Lily Evans and Severus Simmons have a secret relationship (unlikely)? Who should be the main side characters? Remember to review!**


	2. Chapter 2

_In which Tom and Lily talk through the diary, Lily lives her happy, carefree life, and the realization that something is terribly, horribly wrong surfaces._

Tom Riddle currently had hundreds of 'subconscious objects,' as he liked to call them. Catalogued in different parts of his mind, the objects had the ability to remain in the expanse of the diary even while he was not actively thinking about them. That wasn't to say they had any merit, or reality; contrariwise, Riddle could still feel the power he was putting into each of these objects: if he took away power, they would cease to exist. It didn't drain him, for the whole area seemed to be composed of his own essence.

Sometimes Tom pondered why he bothered creating the objects. He had created a body for himself, and even some dreary scenery so to feel as if he were somewhere. Be figured that he created these objects for some form of familiarity; if it were any other way, he'd have grown insane.

 _Perhaps I've already grown insane._ He thought, then laughed. It took a few seconds and a slight bit of concentration for the laugh to sound right. He quickly catalogued the sound of a laugh for future reference.

 _Wow, this really is pathetic._

Currently, Tom Riddle was attempting to form some system time: a way to introduce the fourth dimension to bis mindscape. It wasn't going very well. He had not the faintest idea of how much time had transpired since the incident in the bathroom.

 _Perhaps it has only been a minute. Perhaps I am still walking to my room at the moment, diary in hand_.

He couldn't bring himself to accept this. Mostly because it had felt like eternity. And that wasn't an exaggeration, like a child complaining about an hour long car ride. Riddle felt as if he could have outlived the earth. He never realized the importance of stimulation, of other people, of things you could see and touch with your real eyes or real hands.

Of course, this frustration wasn't uncommon. He threw a tantrum every few moments in his blank existence.

In order to calm himself down, he looked at one of his subconscious objects, bringing it into his conscious. It was a tree. He focused and 'grew' another branch on the tree, perfecting its every groove and texture, its hundreds of leaves, what the wood must be like inside the branch... He was finished. He looked over the overall tree. It was a colossal mess, having thousands of branches. Perhaps be should start a new one.

Tom Riddle wasn't exactly interrupted from any action when _It_ happened. He had long ago found out that he was in a constant state of inaction: even while doing something, each millisecond, each 'point' in the nonexistent time lasted an eternity. So when _It_ happened, even if he had been engaged in an 'action,' he wasn't able to remember it. Perhaps he was cataloguing an object. Perhaps he was growing a branch on his Tree of Frustrations, perhaps it was something completely different. Whatever he was doing, it didn't matter, for _It_ far outshone any of the menial tasks he had been performing during his bleary existence in the diary.

His time in the diary has long outlasted his time as a child, as a student in Hogwarts. This dull, simulation of a world was all he knew. The memories he retained of his life before slipped through his fingers and only provided inspiration for the imitations he produced. But when _It_ happened, it all came rushing back to him.

It wasn't flashy. It wasn't like a huge fireworks display. It wasn't as if something appeared in his space; no, it wasn't exactly tangible, yet it was the most real substance that had been imposed on him so far. It rushed through his existence like a gale.

It was a touch. He could feel the fingers on his diary, he could feel the small amount of warmth—real warmth—that remained. He could feel traces of magic, _magic_! Magic that he had gone so long without. He remembered when magic was all he had.

A crack, and he gasped. The book had been opened. He looked up and could see her face, feel her confusion, sense the power she held even as a young girl, five or six at the most. He wondered if she could see him too and ponder at all the little, unimportant creations he had around him. Before he could do anything, the book was closed.

The sense of warmth persisted for a small while after that, and then it was gone.

* * *

Lily Potter put the diary and wand into her pockets (which had space-enlargement charms). She didn't think she could get the whole trunk in there, and she wasn't able to open it. Oh well. She had found enough treasure. She could come back.

When she left the room, the door disappeared. Lily tried to memorize her surroundings so she'd be able to get back next time she went to Hogwarts.

She went down a few flights of stairs and then realized how lost she was.

Luckily, a few minutes of wandering later, her mother ran to where she was, tracking spell in action.

"Oh, Poppy! We were so worried you were lost! Why'd you run off like that? The tracking spell wasn't doing anything for a while..." The older Lily Potter trailed off and put a piece of parchment into her pocket.

Her 'Uncle'/godfather Sev (if Sirius gets to choose a name, Severus gets to be her godfather!) was behind her mum, wearing an equally worried expression, "Some students can get lost in the castle for days. She's lucky she didn't wander into the dungeons."

Young Lily Potter didn't know what to say. She wanted to blurt out all about her adventures, but she knew the hidden wand in her pocket was taboo, and she wanted her treasure all for herself.

"Sorry, mum, I was explorin'."

The worried look on her mothers face dissipated as she laughed, "You and your exploring! Come on, let's go get some ice cream," her mother looked over at her godfather, "Are you coming, Sev?"

"Sorry, Lils, there's a particular potion that will need my attendance in a few minutes. Give me a floo call later, ok?" They hugged and then Professor Simmons left.

Lily Potter was always up for ice cream.

* * *

Tom Riddle was pacing back and forth. And by pacing, he meant staying in the same spot while imagining pacing back and forth, for the concept of friction was a hard one to keep up for extended periods of time (he usually just appeared somewhere if he wanted to go there).

Why was his diary in the hands of a six year old girl? If this was the first 'touch' the diary had since he created the Horcrux, that meant that no one had touched it since this girl.

The diary was moving somewhere. He could feel it.

Why would the first person to touch the diary be a little girl? It made no sense. Perhaps his main soul had given it to a trusted member to take care of it, and they had a daughter? Nothing made sense!

Tom Riddle was frustrated. After spending 50 years (not that he knew it) in a book, past troubles were the last thing he wanted to deal with. He tried to calm down and create a branch on his tree, but as soon as he stared at it he filled with rage and the whole tree ceased to exist.

"Shit!" That tree took years of dedication!

But nothing in his space had any real value. He had gifted all his objects with some level of importance, some sentiment about the world outside, some semblance of reality. But once the girl had touched the diary, had opened it, he didn't care for any of his imitations. He had seen constancy, reality, felt his greatest desire since he got trapped in the forsaken place. And now it was gone.

Some time later (it was both an eternity and a second), Tom Riddle felt the touch again. He let out a sigh (he had long ago catalogued sighs), and shivered with anticipation. Or he would have shivered with anticipation if he had catalogued it.

The book opened, and he again stared into the face of the girl. Green eyes, uncontrollable hair, and large circle glasses. It was as if he were staring into a window, or a two-sided mirror. he could see out, but judging by her lack of focus on him, she couldn't see in.

The little girl raised a quill (he was right about her being a witch), and started writing.

If the touch was like a hurricane, and the opening of the book like lightning, then the words...the words were the world. An explosion of color, light, magic, all complimented with the cool ink and slight scratch of the quill. A mixture of fireworks and the eruption of a volcano, and Tom Riddle held onto the words like they were the only thing in the world, because for him, they were.

 _Hello, Diary._

 _My name is Poppy Lily Potter. However, I go by Lily Potter, because Poppy Potter sounds ridiculous._

 _I am six years old, and I am a witch. I know this because my parents are a wizard and a witch, and I do accidental magic sometimes. Sometimes it is not accidental. But I don't tell my parents that._

Lily Potter smiled at a few memories of controlling her magic. Unbeknownst to her, the boy in the diary's heart stopped when he saw her smile. He didn't know how to respond. He didn't know _if_ he could respond. While thinking this, a replica of the diary popped into existence,'and a quill and inkwell soon followed. He sat down and began to write.

 _Hello, Lily Potter, my name is Tom Riddle._

The girl on the other side gasped once she saw the words, and then she smiled.

 _Hello, Tom, are you a magic diary? Or are you inside the diary?_

 _I guess you could say both. Do you know anyone by the name of Tom Riddle where you come from?_

 _No._

The diary paused for longer than usual.

 _Have you heard of anyone called Lord Voldemort?_

 _No._

Tom Riddle's mind swirled with confusion. Hadn't he had dreams, ambitions? He then realized an important question to ask.

 _Lily, what year is it?_

 _1986._

Tom Riddle would have fainted. If he could faint. Fifty years? Fifty years in this damn diary? And what happened to his main counterpart? None of his dreams and aspirations had come true. He couldn't have died, he could come back, right?

Lily Potter eyed the book warily. It seemed to be slightly shaking. She decided to calm the person inside.

 _Hey, its okay. Whatever it is, it's fine._

The moment her quill touched the parchment, Tom Riddle was again struck by the tangibility they presented. The words hadn't ceased to strike him with the realness they provided him. Looking up at the girl, he noticed that her expression seemed worried, and slightly scared. He reeled with regret. He couldn't scare this girl away. She was all he had.

 _Thank you, Lily. It seems as if I've spent longer time in this diary than I thought._

But that wasn't true at all, was it? It felt like centuries in the diary, a millennia with nothing to do but create various familiar objects. Nevertheless, the girl seemed less disturbed and more intrigued. Her curiosity seemed endless. Tom Riddle smiled. Of course, he'd never admit that he smiled because of a six year old girl. But what did it matter, no one could see him anyway?

Lily Potter felt the faintest sensation of warmth and happiness come from the book. Like the feeling her mother gave her. It calmed Lily down, just as her mother called her down for dinner.

 _I have to go, Tom. But I'll be back later._

Lily Potter gasped as the words disappeared. She then closed the diary and put it under her bed for safe-keeping. She took out the wand (which flowed with power in her clasp) and put it under the bed as well. She was hoping they had pasta for dinner.

Tom Riddle lay in nothingness once again. His surroundings forgotten, he could think only of the girl and of the next time they would speak.

* * *

Lily could barely stop herself from shaking in excitement. She had always wanted a diary to write in, but this was way better than she could have imagined. She got a person in a diary! Like a genie in a bottle.

She wondered if Mr. Riddle would do her bidding if she set him free.

As she ate her spaghetti, she pondered what Mr. Riddle told her. What was that funny name he told her? Moldevort? It sounded French.

"Hey, Mom," Lily asked, "Do you know of anyone named Tom Riddle?" She might as well see if her mom had the answers.

"Ernm, I don't think so Lily. Where did you get that name?" Her mom questioned her.

Lily panicked. She didn't want to tell anyone of her own personal genie.

"I, uhm, saw something about him when we were at Hogwarts," said Lily in her innocent voice.

"Hmm, must be a student then," murmured the older Lily, distractedly. James had just gotten home from Auror headquarters, and his wife rose from her seat to greet him.

"A bit late, aren't you," nagged Lily as she pecked him on the cheek, "we just sat down for dinner."

"Spaghetti and meatballs, my favorite! Hey, Lil' Lily, how was your first time visiting Hogwarts?"

"She wandered off and we spent half the time looking for her. I had to floo here and back to grab your old map," grumbled her mother, false-severely, "but she said she went exploring. How'd it go, Lily?"

As both of Lily's parents waited for an answer with smiles on their faces and love in their eyes, Lily couldn't help but notice that something was wrong. This wasn't the first time she noticed it, but it really hit her this time. Something was horribly, horribly wrong.

She smiled anyway, "Hogwarts was great! All the portraits and paintings were really funny. And the moving stairs were so cool! After, Mom took us to get ice cream, but Uncle Sev couldn't come. It's too bad I didn't get to talk to him very much."

Lily wasn't lying about her excitement at Hogwarts. But she knew that the mask she put on for her parents wasn't real. And there was no way she could explain to them what it was.

Her parents held a few more conversations, with Lily interjecting when necessary. One topic stood out to her the most:

"James, I feel as if it's about time I've visited my sister," sighed the older Lily Potter.

"Your prissy muggle sister? Why?" questioned James.

"James, its been six years," said Lily, "I haven't seen her since Lily was born.

Lily perked up at her name and retraced the conversation. She had an aunt? Did she have any cousins?

"Well then, send her a letter," said James, calling for their owl. He gave the owl a piece of a meatball.

"No, James, not with an owl," sighed Lily, questioning her husband.

Lily dropped her attention from the conversation. She was excited to meet her aunt and maybe a cousin, but her mind was consumed by the striking realization of the wrongness she felt sitting at the table with her two parents in a loving environment.

When Lily went to bed that night and pulled out the diary, she felt as if she had found something right. This compelled her the grab a quill and write out a single sentence before she fell into bed and dreamt, diary in her arms. She dreamt of a cupboard, spiders, and freakishness.

 _Tom? Tom, I think there's something wrong._

 **AN: Well, I wasn't planning on bringing the Dursley's in, but here they are! Or maybe Vernon Dursley was killed in the war. That sounds plausible. Maybe he was never born at all? What do you think? Maybe Dudley happens to be a wizard? Review with your opinions and requests!**

 **Also, Lily is six. If Tom is acting "strangely" around her in any way, it's because he's been trapped in a diary for 50 years. Tom is in no way attracted to her and I'm not sure if I'll make them a pairing in future chapters, what do you think?**


	3. Chapter 3

**AN: This chapter is a bit silly and confusing at first, then just plain confusing. Next chapter will be more interesting, but for now, have some Dursley's.**

When Lily awoke the next morning to find that she had not put the diary away, she quickly stuffed it back under her mattress and started her day. Her aunt had ended up calling after they received the letter (Mrs. Potter had insisted on having a telephone), and they were to go to the Dursley's for dinner that evening.

They decided to ride disillusioned broomsticks to a point near Privet Drive; Lily sat on a child's seat behind James. He transfigured a nearby bush into a car. The car didn't work so the whole family took pushed it down the street in front of the house.

When Lily opened the door to her relatives' home, she immediately wanted to close the door, turn around, and leave. The place gave her a nasty feeling.

"Lily, James, how are you? And is this your little Poppy?" Petunia's smile was strained as she greeted them to the door, "Here, come...see my garden, I put a lot of work into it." Petunia led the Potters outside.

Then Petunia freaked out.

"Now, listen here! My family doesn't need to be _t_ _ainted_ by your abnormal abilities! Your freakishness better stop as soon as you walk through the doorway. Your daughter better not influence my Dudders or Mary in any way, do you hear me? No _talking_ about witchcraft, No _mentions_ of magic, and definitely no _performances_ of your wicked sorcery!" By the time Petunia stopped whisper-yelling, Lily Evans Potter had tears in her eyes.

"T-tuney... why will you," a sniffle here, "never accept me?"

And at that moment, Petunia's tiny, shriveled heart grew three times bigger. (Which she should probably tell a doctor about.)

Petunia started crying as well, "Lily, I, I guess I just wanted to make you feel how I felt all those years ago, I—" at this point the younger Lily Potter zoned out because the whole exchange with her mother had gotten quite boring; although, it had started off hilariously.

After the whole ordeal was finished with, the four family members stepped inside, and Lily got the first view of her cousin.

"Where's the rest of you?" The boy in front of her wasn't skinny, but he wasn't the obese momma's boy Lily always imagined when thinking about having a cousin. She shook her head and introduced herself.

"I'm Lily, and you are... Dudders, I presume?"

"It's Dudley. But call me Ver, for my middle name. Who names a kid Dudley Dursley?"

Lily smiled, "Same here, my first name is Poppy. Poppy Potter sounds ridiculous."

They both laughed, and Lily was again hit by a feeling of _wrongness._

Just then, a girl came out, and Lily backed away. This girl had magic. And she shouldn't exist.

Lily Potter was always able to know things. It was a very useful talent. Or it would be, if the things she knew were right. Some people didn't exist when they should, and some people existed when they shouldn't. Dudley's sister was completely unfamiliar.

They all went to the backyard and the girl introduced herself, "Hello, I'm Mary. Short for Marigold Petunia Dursley. Both names are absolutely horrid, but I think that we just come from a family that gives horrible names."

Lily laughed, "I bet I'll name my son Albus Severus, or something dreadful like that."

The two children stared at her, "Albus...Severus? That name came out of nowhere..."

A face appeared in Lily's mind: a baby boy with green eyes and black hair.

"It's just a really... bad name, I guess? My godfather is named Severus" They all brushed it off.

Just then, Petunia Dursley called in Dudley for help in the kitchen. Lily and Mary were left alone.

Lily talked to Mary for a bit before she decided to tell her:

"Mary, I need to ask you something. Have you ever... changed things? Do strange things happen when you're around?"

Mary's expression turned from one of nonchalance to horror.

"What? No! No, not at all! What are you accusing me of? Don't... mum said...Don't talk to me anymore, Poppy Potter!" And Mary ran off.

And Lily thought she seemed alright! Oh well.

* * *

At dinner later, conversation soon turned to a who-is-the-most-successful contest.

"So, James," grumbled Vernon, "Where do you work?"

"Oh, I'm an Auror-OH!" Lily Evans had kicked James from under the table, and he started choking on a bite of food.

His wife quickly covered for him while he was choking, "Actor. He's an actor."

"An actor? Sure you've got some good looks, but come on boy, get a real job! Stupid kids these days, thinking they can do anything... No one's even heard of you, boy. How do you provide for your family?"

James stood up. "Don't call me boy."

Vernon turned red. "You're job is useless! Do something you can take pride in, something worthwhile. Don't just wander around as a failing actor!"

By this time, little Lily had had enough, "Uncle Vernon, how dare you! Where do you work, a drilling company? What even are drills? How is that helping the world in any way? My dad stops the bad guys from destroying the world! And who cares about the money, we're already stinking rich!"

"Lily!" reprimanded her mother, "don't talk to your uncle like that."

Vernon was purple, "This is how you raise your children? Pet was right, your family is unstable!"

Lily looked to her sister. "Did you really say that about me, Petunia?"

"I-err"

Poppy interjected, "You better accept us! Because Mary over here is a witch!"

"GET OUT," bellowed Vernon, as he stood up, causing the dinner table to shake, "AND LEARN HOW TO CONTROL THAT INSOLENT BRAT." Petunia started crying.

The Potter family rushed out of the Muggle dwelling and flew away..

* * *

Tom had gone the whole night relaxing against her warmth and magic, and when it was stripped away from him, he was quite annoyed. The words that Lily had abruptly scratched on his surface last night repeated in his mind.

 _Tom? Tom, I think there's something wrong._

What could be wrong? The girl seemed safe for the time being. What did Lily mean?

Tom could not see anything particularly remarkable from the girl. She had an average appearance, and by her description she seemed to be from an average wizard family. Of course, she was a Potter, so she was wealthy. What was that, three generations after Charlus Potter? (Tom then considered the fact that the Potters had strayed from their typical naming pattern. Poppy Lily? Two flower names? Who hated that child?)

After some time in which Tom: catalogued another object (it was a flower), grew frustrated at the lack of Lily, created another Tree of Frustrations, designed a branch on the Tree of Frustrations the second, and contemplated his course of action on how to leave the diary, Lily returned to her room.

Tom could feel her from a few feet away, and he yearned for her to write in him.

 _Tom, you cannot be pining for a few words with a six year old girl. It's pathetic._

Tom had figured out long ago that his entire existence was pathetic, and his inner dialogue was not helping. The only reason he looked forward to the girl's words were because they were more interesting than anything else he'd been doing in his own personal hell for the last 50 years. He also wondered if there was a way to leave the diary through the girl.

Possession, probably. Lily was a window to the outside world. He could experiment with removal methods the next time Lily wrote.

And just then, he felt her hands reach into the mattress and grab his notebook. Again, the feeling of something real shocked Tom before Lily even wrote in the book.

He needed to get out of the notebook.

Just then, Lily started to write.

 _Tom! Tom! We went to my aunt's house today!_

 _Oh? And how were the muggles?_

Lily could practically feel the disdain in his words. She could match the feeling.

T _hey were absolutely horrible! One of them is a witch, but she shouldn't exist. My other cousin is decent, my uncle is disgusting, and my aunt cries too much._

 _Muggles are disgusting._

 _Later we had dinner, and my dad was so oblivious to the muggle customs. Then I told them all that Marigold (that's her name) was a witch, and everything went to hell._

 _That's the girl who shouldn't exist? Did she perform magic in front of you?_

 _Well, no, but people with magic feel different._

This girl could sense magic? Tom hadn't been able to do that until he was a fourth year. And this girl was six! Perhaps she was more interesting then he had first assumed.

 _Lily, why do you think she shouldn't exist?_

 _Some people shouldn't exist, but they do. Other people should exist, but they don't. The worst part is when people have different names. It gets very confusing._

 _'I'm sorry, Lily, but I don't understand._

Tom looked up at Lily's face through the window of his existence. She looked upset and took a little longer to write.

 _I'm sorry, I should have realized. No one understands._

The look on Lily's face broke Tom's heart. And then he had an idea.

 _You are right Lily, I don't understand. But perhaps there is a way you could communicate it to me more clearly. Would you like to try?_

 _Yes._

 _Ok, put your hand on the diary._

Lily placed her hand on a page they weren't writing on. At the feeling of the hand, Tom could hardly wait to get out.

 _Now. Lily. you mentioned before that some of your accidental magic wasn't very accidental. Do you remember what it felt like to control your magic?_

 _Yes._

 _I want you to focus on that feeling and send your magic to my notebook._

Lily focused all her magic to her hand and sent it to the diary. Tom felt like he was in heaven. He had his magic, sure, but since he couldn't use it in the diary he wasn't able to exercise it. The feeling of Lily's magic was overwhelming, and it didn't take long for him to do what he needed to do.

Tom focused on Lily's magic and then on attaching his own to hers. He traveled through it until his consciousness was outside of the diary. He was then able to enter the source of the magic: Poppy Lillian Potter.

* * *

Tom took control. Everything hit him at once. He could hear the white noise in Lily's room, he could smell a soft smell of an air-freshening charm, he could taste Lily's saliva, he could feel the clothing on his body, the warmth, the pressure, blood rushing through veins, and—he opened his eyes— he could see Lily's room. It was too much. He blacked out.

Burrowed in the recesses of Lily Potter's mind, Tom Riddle allowed her to resume consciousness. It was much nicer in her mind than in the notebook. Brighter, a bit messy, but welcoming as memories traveled everywhere in a white mist. If he looked up he could see some of them traveling to her conscious mind. Tom wandered around for a while, not touching anything.

He had screwed up. He couldn't even hold control of Lily's body long enough to do anything. He had desired for so long the feeling of having a body again, and it was too much for him. Pathetic.

As Tom wandered around Lily's mind, he wondered about what she had told him. How her cousin "shouldn't exist," it was nonsense, really. Probably just the imagination of a little girl.

He continued to roam about Lily's subconscious, not touching any memories for the time being. Perhaps he could organize them later.

Tom Riddle looked through the mist and came upon something that shouldn't have been there. Of course, he shouldn't have been in Lily's mind so he couldn't judge, but this thing had no explanation. It seemed to have the form of a person. White wisps of memories were traveling from it's head and joining the others. As Tom tried to get closer to it, he was stopped by... something.

Perhaps Lily Potter wasn't as uninteresting as he had assumed.

* * *

When Lily Potter woke up, she was on the ground, and Tom was gone.

It wasn't that the notebook had no more magic and whatever else she could feel coming from it, it was that something was missing. She wrote in the diary to make sure, and she received no response.

Just then, everything stopped.

It wasn't everything. She could still feel and look at her surroundings. She could still think. But everything was gone. She couldn't remember what had been happening a few minutes ago. Right before she had a panic attack, a voice appeared in her mind.

 _Lily? It's me. Tom._

Lily couldn't respond, the feeling of panic overwhelming her.

 _Hold on, I must be blocking something._

Lily relaxed as everything came back to her.

 _Is that better?_

 _Tom? Why are you here?_

 _I told you I would help you, didn't I? To find out why your cousin shouldn't exist?_

 _Oh yes, I forgot about that. Is it ok if we do this later? I'm very... exhausted._

Lily shuffled over to her bed and promptly fell asleep while Tom escaped into her subconscious before dreams could begin. Who knows what kind of horrors could be in the dreams of a six year old.

Now that Tom had more time in the subconscious, he began exploring. Her memories were zipping all over the place now that she was asleep, but Tom was able to catch a few and organize them. Lily would thank him when she was older. It was a pain to try and organize 15 years of memories as he had done in 5th year.

Tom first organized the memories by year. He put all her baby memories in one place, and went forward.

It didn't take long for him to realize that something was wrong.

Some memories were different than the others. Even when Tom focused more on the feeling of the memory rather than the content, some memories did not belong.

 _He was in a cupboard. He got married. He was surrounded by letters. He held a baby. He fought a basilisk. He destroyed a dark lord. He sent his children to school. He grew old._

Tom took all the wrong memories and placed them in their own place. apart from the others. Then, using a bit of power, he sealed them so they couldn't escape to her conscious. However, that didn't solve the problem of how they were in a young girl's mind in the first place. But, (Tom's mind flickered to an image of the man on the ground) Tom had a sinking feeling he knew where they were coming from

* * *

 **AN: So the Dursley's turned out different without a certain Harry Potter to abuse! And we sort of find out why Lily knows things! And Tom escapes the diary (even if his soul is still trapped inside).**

 **Also, if its ever unclear whether I'm talking about Lily or her mom, I'll add an Evans to her name (the older). Which shouldn't happen as much, since I'm thinking of having a time jump in the next chapter, what do you think? Review!**


	4. Chapter 4

A conscious cannot exist separated from it's soul for extended periods of time, and Tom was forced to return to his bleak existence in the diary. All of his creations had ceased to exist during his leave of absence, yet Tom had no desire to recreate them. Now that he had Lily Potter, he had no use for ephemeral items.

Instead, he spent his time inside the diary to write to Lily and to theorize. At the age of six, a human brain is designed to absorb information at an accelerated rate; this makes it easy to learn languages when you are young. Of course, most six year olds aren't learning much due to lack of focus, but when Tom organized the memories in Lily Potter's mind, she was able to retain information effectively. This, combined with writing to the gifted Tom Riddle, brought about a very bright Lily Potter.

The girl continued to talk to Tom through the notebook; every so often she'd find him inside of her mind. Since the day she had blacked out, she no longer received strange memories of things that never happened and Lily Potter forgot about such knowledge. They talked about Tom's past, they talked of Hogwarts, of magical theory, of controlling one's magic, of philosophy. If Tom had at first found the young girl lacking in contriving an intelligent, stimulating conversation, he soon shaped her to (almost) match his intellect.

By the time Poppy Lily Potter had turned eleven, she had more knowledge than a first year had need of, and she was frustrated.

 _Tom. I'm eleven, I'm going to Hogwarts this autumn. I think I'm ready to know now._

 _Lily, if you've retained any of my information regarding arguments, you would know that in order to strengthen a claim you must refrain from phrases such as "I think" or "sort of" or "almost." Its unprofessional._

 _I understand, Tom! I added the clause to provide a sense of casualty to my suggestion: I'm not trying to win an argument, but to have an agreement with a friend._

 _Friend?_

 _I've known you for five years, Tom. We are past the level of acquaintance._

 _I knew every child in the forsaken orphanage I "lived" in for 11 years; later I knew every child in my year at Hogwarts for 6 years, and I never made a single friend._

 _Is that supposed to be an accomplishment? Honestly, Tom, that's pathetic._

 _My existence is pathetic. I was simply disproving your argument that we are friends for having known each other for a relatively long period of time. If you count all the years I've existed, I've known you for less than 12% of my life._

 _The years stuck in the notebook don't count._

 _Please tell me you see the flaw in that statement._

 _I do._

 _Good._

 _Tom? I deserve to know._

 _Hmmm? And, what is it that you request the knowledge of?_

 _Tom! Tell me how you got into the diary! Brilliant sixteen year olds don't just find themselves inside books for no reason!_

 _Was that a compliment, Miss Potter?_

 _No!_

Tom and Lily argued the same argument they had had hundreds of times: Tom pointing out flaws in her logic and Lily implementing flaws out of spite. Yet Tom would not tell Lily what happened to him 50 years ago. Mostly because of the questionability of both the ethics and the existence of his actions.

He had _planned_ to create a Horcrux. He had _researched_ on how to make a Horcrux. He had _prepared_ for the event of making a Horcrux. And, for all those years spent alone in the diary, he had _believed_ that he had succeeded. Until a certain six year old girl disrupted that belief with her nonexistent knowledge of either of his personas.

Not that one of them was his name any more. Lord Voldemort had ceased to exist as but a childish dream.

(The only mention of Voldemort was through the anachronisms in Lily's mind, but Tom could not shake the feeling of wrongness that crept up on him while even thinking of the strange man he found all those years ago. He had sealed those memories and they were gone.)

Tom decided to use Lily's attendance at Hogwarts to investigate the event on April 16, 1943. Perhaps Hogwarts had information on the whereabouts of a certain Tom Marvolo Riddle.

* * *

When the time for school shopping arrived, Lily Potter managed to convince her parents that she was independent enough to go by herself. Keeping the diary close by, Tom Riddle entered her mind and insisted that she first buy a wand.

Lily entered Ollivander's and the musty old man started creepily talking about her family and such. He finally pulled out some wands and, after a whole unnecessary ordeal, he pulled out a dusty box that he had all along.

"11 inches, Holly, Phoenix feather. Give it a wave."

Lily waved the wand and magic surged through her, reminding her of a different wand...

"Oh, shoot," she had left the yew wand under her bed for five years. Tom stirred in her mind.

Ollivander laughed, "A perfect match, once again! That'll be 7 galleons, Miss Potter. In fact, perhaps you will meet the phoenix that gave the feather for your wand at Hogwarts. Dumbledore's familiar, Fawkes. That phoenix gave two feathers but the owner of that wand mysteriously died 50 years ago."

"Er, okay Mister Ollivander. Thanks for my wand," Lily payed for her wand and left the store.

She went through Diagon Alley and bought all her supplies, taking advantage of the unlimited bag of money her mother gave her to shop. At Flourish and Blotts she bought piles of books, which were all able to fit in her top-notch trunk. Only one store gave her pause.

 _Tom, I want a pet._

 _No._

 _Yes!_

 _You already have a family owl, toads are useless, and you don't have the patience to care for a cat._

 _Did you have an animal at Hogwarts?_

Tom paused.

 _...Yes._

 _Oh, what type? Why did you never tell me before?_

Tom hadn't told her, for the Potter family was notoriously light, and he didn't know how Lily would feel about his Parseltongue abilities. However, after five years he supposed the girl trusted him.

 _He wasn't allowed at Hogwarts, but I brought him anyway. He was a snake. I didn't buy him, I found him._

 _I want a snake!_

And Lily ran into the magical menagerie, only stopping at the reptile section.

"Oh, you all are so beautiful!" she crooned. Every snake turned to her.

 _"A ssspeaker_?" hissed one. Lily gasped and spoke to Tom.

 _I can speak Parseltongue._

 _What._

 _"Hello, beastiesss. Which of you will come home with me today_?" Lily hissed to the snakes.

A black snake with a bright red head and tail looked at Lily sleepily, " _The question isss, which of usss is ssstupid enough to wake up at thisss time of day."_

Lily chastised herself. Weren't most snakes nocturnal?

She questioned a store clerk if there were any potions to adjust the sleep schedule of animals.

"Oh yes," said the store clerk, "It's a common one used on owls. Each drop will adjust their schedule by one hour."

Lily gave the snake a few drops of the potion and it awoke immediately.

 _"Greetingsss ssspeaker,_ " hissed the snake, " _Have you come to free me from my cage or to imprison me further?"_

 _"I come to offer you a choice: You may ssstay here in your pitiful containment, or you can come with me, eat my food, and roam free until sssummoned."_

 _"An agreeable compromise. Release me."_

Lily bought the snake, a red headed krait. She was two feet long and was to grow four feet longer. The snake had been called Ngu in her homeland, but decided to choose a different name (which she would decide on later).

When Lily floo'd back home, Ngu ate some food and slithered off.

Lily sat down on her bed and thought.

 _Tom. Why am I a parseltongue._

 _Let me return to the book and I'll explain some things. Also, can you explain to me why you've left my wand underneath your mattress for five years?_

So Lily found out about Tom's heritage and the basilisk and Tom's theory of how he had somehow given her parseltongue by being in her mind.

However, Tom's theory was wrong.

* * *

When Lily found herself on Platform 9 3/4 at King's Cross Station with her parents nearby talking to family friends, she didn't know what to do.

 _Form alliances with those who have the most power._

 _That's what you would do! I don't care about that._

 _Well stop talking to me or you'll get pegged as the strange girl who has no friends_.

Lily Potter gave her mother and father a kiss on the cheek and left to board the train. Her trunk had been shrunk and placed in her pocket, and both her wands were placed on separate wand holsters on her wrists. Having heard tales of Hogwarts from her parents, "uncles", and Tom, she knew that chaos would begin shortly.

And it did.

Lily found an empty compartment, sat down, and started reading a book on Potion creation and hoped no one would come in.

It started with a young girl with bushy brown hair. The girl slammed open the door on the compartment and started screaming.

"Neville! Where? Toad! Lost! Is that a book?"

Just then, Neville Longbottom flew into the room. Lily had met him briefly at primary school when she was seven. She then left primary school after learning that most pureblooded wizards did not learn to read until age seven. Honestly, she was glad her mum was a muggleborn.

Neville looked panicked, "Have you seen my toad?"

Then a blonde-haired boy glided in, "Are you the Potter girl?"

They all started talking at once.

"The name's Malfoy, Draco Malfoy."

"Trevor!"

"—parents are dentists."

"Mum said—"

"—read all the books , of course."

"I've never met a muggleborn."

"Scared—"

"—all worked."

Lily had never had to go through such torture before. Being bombarded by a gaggle of eleven year olds was worse than she could have ever imagined.

"Are you wealthy?"

"My toad!"

"Excuse me?"

"Money—"

"—house you'll be in."

"Not sure."

"Gryffindor, like my parents."

"Read every book, really."

Lily could not stand it any longer:

"Could you all, please, SHUT UP! Honestly, please, just follow a single conversation or leave this compartment."

"But," squeaked out Neville, "Trevor, my toad—"

"Accio Trevor."

A second year Hufflepuff came flying through the train and landed outside the compartment.

"Erm, hello?"

"Damn," muttered Lily, "wrong Trevor."

"Accio Trevor the Toad."

The toad came flying in, slapping Trevor-the-second-year-Hufflepuff in the face, knocking him out. Lily left him on the ground.

"Here's your toad, Neville. Stop freaking out."

"Was that magic?" squeaked the bushy haired girl.

"No," deadpanned Lily.

"That was so cool! I've never done magic before. My parents thought I was a squib until..."

 _Get them out get them out get them out get them out get them out._

 _Tom! I told you to stay in the diary!_

 _Lily, I can't take this torture anymore. This is the stuff of nightmares. Please, Lily, get them out of here._

 _You're the one who told me to make alliances. And look, Draco Malfoy is here, he's like the richest person in my year. Besides me, of course. Speaking of, he's talking._

"Potter! Why have you never gone to one of the Malfoy parties? Think you're too good for us?"

Lily sighed, "No, I just don't like parties where I don't know anyone. Besides, my parents went, didn't they?"

"You could've met people at the parties, Potter. Besides, what's your name, anyway?"

"Lily. Lily Potter. Pleased to meet you."

The brown-haired-bush butted in, "I'm Hermione Granger."

"Oh! The muggleborn! Did you ever say if you were wealthy or not? With the... Den...tists?"

Hermione narrowed her eyes, "Why do you want to know?"

Draco rolled his eyes, "To see if I should talk to you, of course!"

Hermione shrugged, figuring it was just a wizard custom, "Well, my parents are significantly wealthier than the average muggle, being doctors and all."

Draco decided he could be seen with Hermione.

"That was an impressive piece of magic you performed there, Potter," complimented Draco, "what was that, a third year spell?"

Lily couldn't let anyone know she had any extra abilities, "It's a common spell, I've seen my mum cast it a lot. She has a mastery in charms."

Hermione Granger was gasping, "Third...year? I have to go right now immediately."

Neville looked at the two left in the room, "I'll go to, I should study before school begins."

Draco and Lily Potter were left alone.

Lily stared at him, "You shouldn't blatantly ask someone if they are rich or not, you know?"

Draco looked confused, "Yes, but how was I supposed to know how rich she was? Her family isn't known or anything!"

Lily sighed, "Become friends with her. Good friends. Wait for an important holiday or birthday and see what gift she gives you. You can judge her wealth by the price of the gift."

Draco scowled, "That takes too long! What if I did that and someone was poor?"

Lily scowled, "Well, it's the Slytherin way of doing it, and you want to be in Slytherin, right?"

Draco looked down, "Well, yes, I want to work in a Ministry position, obviously. What house do you want to be in?"

"Anything, really."

Draco's eyes widened, "Even Hufflepuff?"

Lily smiled, "No one suspects Hufflepuffs of anything. It's the perfect house to remain inconspicuous if you want to implement the element of surprise."

"I doubt any Hufflepuffs are Slytherins in disguise, and if you end up in that house your surprise would be useless, since I'd know. That's a fourth year spell you did there, and a difficult one at that. Don't think you can remain so inconspicuous, Lily Potter," Draco laughed, "Now, I should go through the rest of the compartments to see any potential. Which you should be doing as well. I've got my eye on you, Potter. You've hidden for eleven years, refusing to go to a single event. But I've seen what you can do now, so don't think you can escape."

Lily's face remained blank.

"See you in Slytherin, Potter," Draco laughed, "Or Hufflepuff, of course." Draco left.

 _Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit. I shouldn't have done that spell._

 _Stick with Malfoy. Remain his equal or subordinate in public, but never let him think he is better than you. You are the stronger wizard, and he knows it._

 _Tom, this wasn't supposed to happen. Slytherin is too stressful, I'm not you._

 _What, did you honestly want to be a Hufflepuff?_

 _Well, no, but maybe Ravenclaw._

 _It's too late, if you don't go through with it, Draco will become your enemy. Earn his trust, perhaps he can become a "friend."_

 _This is stupid. Why do there have to be all these stupid political games?_

But Lily Potter had already gotten up to meet the future Slytherins.

* * *

 **AN: Done with chapter four! I recommend all of you to search up what a red headed krait looks like, they really are quite vibrant. 'Ngu' is Thai for 'snake' which is why the snake would rather not be called that name. Any name suggestions? Any other suggestions? Reviews keep me going, guys. How long will it be until Lily Potter figures out the riddle that is Tom Riddle, and how long will it be until the readers figure out the riddle that is Lily's mind?**


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